


Closing the distance

by liars_dance



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Initially written for the 2008 lotr_sesa exchange for Galadriel, who wanted Aragorn/Boromir and some swordplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing the distance

"Come - draw your sword against me."

 _A swordfight? Now? Curse the ranger's perverse ways..._ Boromir makes a grumbling sound but does not move from his position by the fire. The light is failing, he is replete from their rabbit supper and at this moment, he feels much more inclined to sleep. Some distance away, Gimli and Legolas watched over the hobbits, no doubt regaling them with tales of past battles and glories.

"You are not moving, Boromir."

"My lord Aragorn is observant this night," Boromir replies.

"Perhaps you have eaten too much?" Aragorn asks, pulling his sword from its sheath with a smile. "Or is it that Gondor's son is feeling his age?"

Boromir grunts and gets to his feet. It had not taken him long to realise that when Aragorn was in this kind of mood, there was little for him to do but follow his lead.

"Neither," he growls, straightening his heavy outer coat. "But I admit I was thinking of closing my eyes for a short time. The fire's warmth has made me drowsy."

"There will be plentiful opportunity for rest later," Aragorn retorts. "But right now I wish to talk and moving will keep us awake. So unsheathe your blade, Boromir; practise with me - but slowly. I want you to be aware of every move of your body - and of your blade..."

"What is this? Are you my sword master now?" Boromir asks, drawing his sword and smiling at Aragorn in the firelight. "For I should remind you that I know many ways with a blade, as I know of other more interesting ways of keeping you awake. I would be happy to reacquaint you if you have forgotten."

Aragorn chuckles, instantly recognising Boromir's teasing attempt at evasion. "Oh, I know that well," he murmurs and lifts his sword to his lips in salute. "And I have not forgotten - though again there will be time enough for you to remind me of the finer details. In fact, I shall look forward to it," he adds and lifts his sword high. "Parry each strike, Boromir," he continues. "Slowly..."

  


_Keeping out of distance before you begin your attack is the first basic rule. So for the most part, stay back. Keep slightly out of distance and close the distance when it is your choice to do so._  


Boromir nods, remembering the lessons from his teacher using a wooden sword all those years ago - and how impatient had he been to fight with a real blade. His hands instinctively lift his sword above his head, parallel to but slightly tilted towards the ground so Aragorn's opening strike glances off the flat edge of his blade. Instinct also tells him that Aragorn's next strike will be a horizontal cut aimed at his left shoulder and he is correct. His teacher had always told him to practise with the next move in mind so he would always know from which side he would need to attack or defend. Now Boromir moves his sword to the left side of his body and confidently parries the strike. "I thought you wished to talk," he murmurs.

Aragorn acknowledges the successful block with a nod of his head. "I do indeed. I was thinking, Boromir... I am surprised you have not taken a wife."

"What? What did you say?" Boromir's guard falls for a second as he turns a little towards Aragorn. Immediately Aragorn thrusts forward with a horizontal strike aimed at Boromir's right shoulder. The tip of the blade just touches the heavy brocade of Boromir's coat.

"And what did your teacher say about the full, open body?" Aragorn asks softly. "Such a careless loss of attention opens up the full width of your body to a direct attack. I could have cut you in two."

Boromir scowls and lowers his sword. "I doubt that to be true. You distracted me with your foolish question," he growls.

"So you _did_ hear what I said," Aragorn replies, lifting his sword above his right shoulder, intending a downward swinging cut to Boromir's left leg but once again, Boromir correctly reads and parries the strike.

"Yes. And I say that a warrior needs no wife," Boromir replies. _I_ have no need of a wife. Women make men weak, Aragorn. And I have no more desire to be weak than I have desire to take myself a wife."

__

  


_A poor lunge leaves the swordsman off balance. A fast recovery is necessary when an attack fails._  


"No, you are mistaken," Aragorn replies. "A woman makes a man _strong_ , Boromir. She gives him purpose and direction."

"It is _you_ who are mistaken," Boromir growls. "I have seen what women do to men - what they reduce them to - and seen it too often."

"And what is that?" Aragorn asks in reply. "Pray share your observations so that I might be enlightened."

Boromir lifts his chin. "An army needs discipline, Aragorn; men need to know where their loyalties and priorities lie and their captains need to be assured of those loyalties. Wives attempt to rule their men - to bend them to their will. A soldier in battle who is more concerned for his woman or child than he is about his fellow men is of little use to me..."

Aragorn shakes his head, pointing his sword to the ground. "I wonder who these women are whom you have met and made you think this way. No, Boromir - not all women seek to rule their men," he murmurs. "And not all in life can be measured by soldiering. What will become of the men of Gondor when they no longer need to answer the call to arms? Because that day will come - I swear. What then? Would you have them lie alone in their beds without company or comfort or purpose until they are once more needed by their king?"

"No - of course I would not," Boromir replies, smiling as he watches the firelight play on Aragorn's face. "I am speaking for myself as a captain of men at a time of battle. I have no desire for such comfort or company but all men of Gondor are free to choose to join with whomever they wish - especially if the king decrees it." For a few moments they advance and retreat in silence, their movements slow and balanced - cut and thrust, strike and counterstrike. Parrying yet another horizontal attack Boromir clears his throat and speaks.

"I saw you at Rivendell - with Lord Elrond's daughter. She is very beautiful... I assume it is she who has been occupying your thoughts in those quiet moments before sleep takes you."

"Yes," Aragorn replies, his voice softening as he thinks of Arwen. For a moment, his attention is elsewhere and a second later the tip of Boromir's sword is at his throat. "A good move," Aragorn whispers. "Well executed.."

  


_When hitting first fails, hitting last will suffice. A good parry will completely defend you and expend your opponent's energy, leaving you free to hit back at will._  


Boromir nods and slowly and carefully retracts his sword. Here was the moment he both expected and feared. "You will wed her - your Elven lady?" he asks.

"It is my hope that we will wed. We pledged ourselves to each other long ago in the green woods of Imladris when I was still a very young man. The intervening years have only deepened my love." Aragorn licks his lips and smiles. "My lord Elrond would not have us wed until I prove myself worthy of her. But in truth, he would have her leave these lands to be with her people - he does not wish her to remain here to suffer a mortal life."

Boromir stares at Aragorn and lowers his sword. He takes his belt from his waist and re-sheathes his sword, leaning it against the rocks alongside his shield. Even in this failing light Boromir can see the pain and conflict in the ranger's eyes. "And you, Aragorn?" he asks softly. "What would you have her do?"

"I would have her happy above all else - whether that be at my side or not," Aragorn whispers, re-sheathing his sword and laying it on the ground. "Does that make me weak, Boromir? Putting her happiness before my own?"

"No. Of course it does not," Boromir replies without hesitation, resuming his position alongside the fire. "It is the action of a man in love - the action of a king.."

Aragorn smiles and sits down next to Boromir. "If we conquer the dark lord and bring peace and light to Middle Earth then I will wed Arwen - one day."

"Then you will have no need for me - no need for..."

Aragorn turns and grasps Boromir's shoulder. "No need for you?" he hisses. "No need? You are a fool, Boromir, if that is what you believe."

"I am many things, Aragorn, but I am no fool." Boromir shrugs off Aragorn's hand.

"Then tell me why you believe I have no need for you when it is evident that I do."

"You ask much, my lord - too much."

Aragorn shakes his head. "I do not understand. I ask nothing of you. What I have to give, I offer freely."

"Perhaps it is as you say," Boromir retorts. "But once you are king - once you are wed, things will be different between us - you must see that. You will not need the simple comfort I can provide," he parries, but his defence is weak, leaving him open and exposed.

"You are wrong," Aragorn whispers, once more placing his hand on Boromir's shoulder, but this time his touch is gentle - tender. "I will need your counsel and support - and the comfort and understanding that only someone alongside whom a man has fought can bring. Gondor needs no king, you said, but to be its king is what I was born to be. I cannot deny my destiny - or my love for my lady, but neither can I deny - or wish to deny - my need for you."

"Your lady Arwen may see it differently."

"Hush," Aragorn murmurs, stroking his hand down Boromir's jaw. "Marriage and my love for Arwen do not diminish my love and need for you, Boromir. It is a different need, yes - and a different love, but it is need and love nonetheless; a need and love that I believe you share." He pauses for a moment, watching Boromir's chin lift defiantly as if he is planning another counter-strike, so he quickly moves closer. "To need friendship, to need comfort - to seek it - to admit it - is not a weakness, Boromir. It is honest. And honesty is surely a sign of strength."

Boromir takes a breath and makes one last strike. "You talk of friendship but you have walked alone all these years, hiding who and what you are. What know you of kinship between men? What know you of friendship?"

Aragorn sighs. "You are determined to fight me to the end, are you not? But I know much - that is what I know. For there is plenty about me that you do not know, Boromir. I have lived long, known friendship and treasured it through the years. I have just lost one of my most treasured friends and I grieve for the loss of Mithrandir, but your friendship I treasure and share with you now. So I ask you in return, Boromir - what know you of _love_?"

 _I know it now..._ The words shout loud inside Boromir's mind, so loud that he fears they will make their way to his lips to be spoken unbidden.

"Do I ask too much? Speak now - please..." Aragorn urges.

"No, Aragorn - you do not ask too much," Boromir replies, though the words he feared would come unbidden now stick in his throat. _Maybe they would come later..._ "But I think you already know the answer."

"Maybe I do and maybe I do not," Aragorn murmurs, but the language of Boromir's eyes spoke their own answer... He smiles as his fingers find their way under Boromir's collar. "So you need no king - and you need no wife. What _do_ you need, Boromir?"

"What do I need?" Boromir sighs and leans into Aragorn's tender caress. "I need my sword, a pillow for my head and a good meal at the end of the day," he murmurs huskily. "And my lord Aragorn's skin under my hands of course."

Aragorn chuckles. "I am happy with that."

  


_Keep slightly out of distance and close the distance when it is your choice to do so..._  


"Good," Boromir replies. "And today has been a good day. I have used my sword and I have eaten well." Boromir pauses and takes in another deep breath as Aragorn's fingers begin to unfasten his coat and tunic, then he moves quickly to pin the heir to the throne of Gondor beneath his own body.

"What would your sword teacher say now?" Boromir asks softly, finding the tender skin at the base of Aragorn's throat with his teeth. "Such a loss of attention opens up the full width of your body to a direct attack."

"Yes," Aragorn whispers. "I was hoping it would..."

\--[END] --

  



End file.
